Hold On To Me (Hawkeye Book 4)

by Sierra Cartwright

  His voice contained an unfamiliar note of command. She was no longer a client, and he’d masterfully started the scene. Adrenaline flooded her, and she took a breath to steady the onslaught of nerves.

  He nodded almost imperceptibly toward the house. Obediently, now on familiar footing, she walked across the patio and into the living room. Once there, she stood patiently, head bowed, trying not to fidget as she waited for him to lock the door and load the stemware into the dishwasher.

  “Very nice.”

  The purr of his approval flowed through her, replacing nerves with confidence.

  After engaging the alarm system, he crossed the room to stand in front of her. “I’m going to kiss you again.”

  “Yes.” She met his eyes. “Please.”

  He hadn’t said just how passionate he’d be. He tasted of rich red wine, and he claimed her mouth like a man dying of thirst. Her surrender wasn’t enough, and he plunged deeper, one palm pressed against the middle of her back and the other cradling her head as he coaxed a response from her. He wasn’t allowing her to be passive—he demanded her active participation.

  At the club, no Dominant had kissed her.

  Once again, Jacob proved he was no ordinary man.

  He pulled away for a moment. Reeling, she blinked as she looked up at him. “Open your mouth wider for me.”

  When he’d said he wanted everything she had to offer, he meant it. She leaned against him, curling her hands around his neck as he devoured her.

  By the time he eased back, her breathing was ragged, and the world was unsteady. He continued to hold her close; then he gently tipped back her chin.

  “You’re exquisite.”

  Ordinarily a compliment like that might have embarrassed her, but the sincerity radiating from his eyes spoke of authenticity. From him, it wasn’t some meaningless platitude.

  “Now I’d like you to follow me.”

  She nodded. Already she would follow him anywhere.

  “I’d prefer to hear your answer aloud, please.”

  “Yes…” For a moment, she paused and frowned. “How should I address you?”

  “Thank you for asking. Sir or Jacob. I’m fine with either.”

  “In that case, yes, Jacob.”

  “I like the sound of my name on your lips.” He removed his finger from beneath her chin.

  Quickly and effectively, he’d established a boundary, and she slipped a little deeper inside herself, to a place where the noise stopped. Sometimes that didn’t happen until later in a scene, after impact play had begun.

  He led the way to his wing of the house and stopped outside the closed door that she’d noticed last night.

  “Is this the room you were talking about? The one you said I wouldn’t like?”

  “My dungeon? Yes.” He flashed a quick, wicked grin. “At this point, I’m thinking you’ll find it to your satisfaction.” After the biometrics disengaged the lock, he turned the knob, pushed open the door, then turned on the lights before looking at her.

  Giving me a chance to change my mind?

  “After you.”

  Wanting this, wanting him, she entered slowly, then turned in a slow circle, taking in the space. It was a submissive’s dream, with lots of mirrors, a spanking bench with lots of rings, as well as siderails for her knees, a rather large, uncomfortable-looking straight-back leather chair fit for a Dominant, and a beautiful wood Saint Andrew’s cross with a small vinyl pad in the middle to make it more comfortable. That, she would appreciate. But what captured her attention was a metal structure. It had two upright poles and another that went across the top. It made her think of a high bar used for gymnastics.

  Although there was no window, there was a sink, an armoire emblazoned with the ranch symbol, and a second door, maybe to a closet. There was a fireplace with a chair and rug in front of it, along with several sturdy metal rings attached to the floor…which no doubt meant he could secure her at his feet, something she’d never experienced before. “This is…”

  “Frightening? Enticing?”

  She faced him.

  Jacob stood with his legs wide, arms folded across his chest, all commanding and ominous. His eyes were darker than they had been earlier, and while he still looked at her with kindness, there was now a glint of hardness in the green depths. In his element, he was magnificent. And he was studying her closely, waiting for her answer. It was difficult to express what was happening inside her, the collision of nerves and excitement. “Both, maybe.”

  “What scares you?”

  “The rings in the floor.”

  “Interesting. Why?”

  “The helplessness of it.” With other Doms, it had been enough to say she didn’t like something. But Jacob forced her to look inside herself. “And not knowing how long I’d be there. Would I be kneeling? Sitting? Lying down? Standing?”

  “Go on.”

  She glanced toward the fireplace setting. “But that speaks to… I don’t know how to put it into words. Like, I guess, a long comfortable evening between a Dom and a submissive. He—you—might be sipping a whiskey…”

  “You remembered.”

  “To me it represents something permanent. It seems like something that might happen in a long-term relationship—you know, between a couple who spend a lot of time enjoying each other.”

  “I can see that.”

  “A scene kind of has a natural progression—a beginning, an end—and that can be thirty minutes or a couple of hours. But you go back to your life, cooking dinner, doing the laundry.”

  He waited, not saying anything.

  ”I’m not sure I have the patience to be tethered at my Master’s feet.” Had she really used the word Master? Something inside her stilled. She’d never had that thought about any Dominant, even the one she’d lived with. So why Jacob?

  Her breaths were frantic as she fought to control her suddenly erratic emotions. “You’ve got this amazing setup. Did you put it together for someone in particular?” It shouldn’t matter, but she couldn’t contain her curiosity.

  “I have particular tastes. But no. You are the only woman—submissive or not—who has spent time in my house.”

  She took that in, loving that she was the first.

  “I worked with a furniture designer in Denver to put the dungeon together. The cross is made with lumber from the ranch.”

  “It’s beautiful, and I understand why you have that and the spanking bench. But I’m curious about the rings attached to the floor. Was my guess right?”

  “I enjoy the flexibility they offer. And standing over a submissive who’s helpless beneath me is a powerful image. For example, you could be on all fours, secured by a collar around your beautiful neck.”

  Unable to help herself, she pressed her palm to her chest.

  “There’d be no escape as I eased a butt plug inside your ass.”

  His focus was relentless, and beneath his scrutiny, her pussy moistened. And he was still several feet away from her.

  “You’d have no choice but to take my cock in your hot pussy as I entered you from behind.” He took a step toward her, his footfall ominous on the honeyed floor planks. “You’d be full for me. And I’d show you no mercy.”

  Protective instincts urged her to flee, but submissive ones compelled her to stay rooted in place.

  “Or maybe I’d place you on your back and require you to tug on your nipples as I dropped hot wax onto your belly.”

  Her knees were weak. It wasn’t just from his words, but the intent beneath them. They were more than random musings. He was watching her, weighing her response.

  “But I definitely like your idea—of seeing you tied at my feet while I sip whiskey in front of the fire.”

  Earlier, she might have put that on her limits list. But she was no longer certain of that. His scenario sounded companionable, emotional rather than sexual, and she suddenly craved that connection in a way she never had before.

  “Do you know what would make this e
ven more spectacular?”

  “No.” Tipping her head to one side, she looked at him. “What?”

  “The image you’re working on. Having the original portrait hanging on the wall above the mantel.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I’d like to commission the piece, if it’s not too late.”

  Her mind reeled. He wants it for himself?

  “Do you take requests?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “I’d like the submissive to have darker hair. Perhaps blue eyes as well.”

  He had seen his resemblance in the image, and he wanted the woman to look more like her? “I’ve never done something like that before.” Of course, until today, she’d never changed an image to look like a man who was consuming her thoughts.

  “Bonds recognized your talent. So do I. I’d like to purchase your art before you have a showing and the price goes up.”

  She laughed at the absurdity.

  “I’ll consider it an investment.”

  “Look, if you really mean it, I’ll paint it and give it to you. I wouldn’t feel right charging you.”

  “I insist. A lot of labor goes into it, not to mention supplies and the opportunity cost.”

  He was a businessman. Of course he’d understand that concept. While she was working on his piece, she couldn’t earn money doing anything else.

  Jacob named a price that made her gasp. It was twenty times anything she’d consider charging. “I want the original, along with any line drawings. No posters, giclées, or any other reproduction. It’s for my private collection, and no one else can ever see it.”

  The offer was absurd.

  There was little chance she’d ever become famous. If she wanted to pursue a career as an artist, the picture would be a crucial part of her portfolio. And being able to make copies of it would be an ongoing source of income.

  Yet no one else would ever have the connection to the painting that he did, and she’d always remember his belief in her—misplaced though it may be. “If I finish it, it’s yours. And I agree to your terms. The price doesn’t include framing or potential shipping charges.”

  “If you’re not here when you complete it, simply name the time and place, and I’ll personally pick it up.”

  “You could hire a professional company to do that.”

  “I know.” The huskiness in his voice traced down her spine. “It’s a deal, then?”

  For better or worse. “Yes.” Since this was a business transaction, she didn’t add the honorific that would make her feel like his submissive.

  He extended his hand.

  “I said if I finish it,” she reminded him.

  “Hope is eternal, fair Elissa.”

  When she took his hand, he surprised her by raising hers to his lips. This badass protective agent, honorable cowboy, made her swoon.

  She was falling for him, hard and fast.

  When he finally released her, she looked away from him, trying to put some emotional distance between them. Her reaction had to be because of the strange circumstances, being alone with him in an idyllic setting and the millions of pheromones zinging between them, creating a bubbling cauldron of sexual need.

  “You told me what scared you about the room.” Like a good Dominant, he brought her back to the present, but he did so in a nonthreatening way that helped her to refocus. “What pleases you?”

  This, a BDSM inquiry, was familiar and not as tricky to navigate. “The spanking bench.”

  “Tell me why.”

  “Depending on the position, it supports my whole body. It’s comfortable. Because I can put my head down, I find it easier to let go mentally. It helps ease my worry.”

  “Good to know.”

  “I’ve never seen one of those in a club.” She pointed to the metal structure.

  “Let me show you how it works.” He crossed the room, and she followed.

  Now that she was close, she noticed the notches and hooks that were in it.

  “It’s a variation of a suspension frame. The height is adjustable, making it suitable for Shibari rope work. I have a different plan for it.” Gently he moved her so she stood beneath the overhead bar. “Unlike the Saint Andrew’s cross or the spanking bench, it allows unrestricted access to a submissive’s body. Of course, she won’t have the same kind of support as a more physical structure, so there are times, like a sustained, sensual flogging, where something else is a better choice.”

  Anticipation made her pussy damp.

  “This frame allows the Dominant, me, to select a number of different positions for my sub—you.”

  She shivered.

  “I can place you on your tiptoes. Or not.” He never took his gaze from hers, and she was ensnared, helpless to look away. “Your ankles can be secured to the sides so that you can’t escape or try to protect your pretty cunt.”

  The words hung in the still air, naked, frightening, tantalizing.

  “Or I can bind your legs, in a mummy effect.”

  “It’s…” Words. She needed to think. But how could she when he was mere inches away, talking about what he intended to do to her? “Ah…more versatile than I realized.”

  “The possibilities are numerous, aren’t they?”

  With her imagination painting some vivid pictures that she couldn’t wait to sketch out, she looked away. Now that her creativity had been unleashed, she couldn’t stop the flow of ideas.

  “The metal plates at the bottom are bolted to the floor, giving the structure stability. That means you will be completely safe, and you’re free to turn yourself over to me.”

  There was nothing she wanted more.

  “Take off your shoes for me, Elissa.” It was part invitation, part command, and his voice was as gruff as sandpaper over pebbles. “Then strip down to your bra and panties.”

  Though she’d expected the soft, uncompromising order, her heart still jolted. He was a new partner, and the unexpected was as wonderful as it was scary.

  Her fingers trembled slightly, and she fumbled with the buttons on her shirt. She appreciated him walking away, toward the armoire, granting her a momentary reprieve from his focus.

  Once she was half naked, her clothing folded on the floor, she tried to peek at what he was doing, but his back was to her, blocking her view.

  He opened a drawer and placed a few items in it.

  “Music?”

  “I’d like that.” Anything was better than the silence, amplifying the sound of her frantic breaths.

  He selected something she recognized from the club, an EDM tune that pulsed with eroticism. “Do you like it?”

  It made her more aware of him, of his constrained power. “Yes.”

  “I was hoping you would.” He bumped up the volume a little more, giving the space an audible heartbeat.

  “It’s intimate. Moody.”

  “And not so loud that I can’t hear your whimpers or cries of ecstasy.” He glanced over his shoulder, and she wasn’t sure whether or not he was joking.

  Unsure what to do, she placed her hands at the small of her back and tried not to squirm as she waited for him.

  When he faced her, he was holding a leather collar. “Any objection?”

  The room held a slight chill, and she told herself her sudden shiver was from that.

  “Elissa?” He’d obviously noticed her reaction. “Is it a problem for you?”

  “I… Uhm…”

  “It’s your choice entirely.”

  In that instant, with the way he was looking at her, she was reminded of the couple she’d painted, the one she told him about.

  The moment pulsed with expectation. To her, the collar represented some kind of commitment, but she wasn’t sure he meant it that way. “Is it a fetish for you, Sir?”

  “Not at all. To me, it’s symbolic. It will be the only thing you’ll have on, and from the moment I fasten it in place until I remove it at the end of our scene, it will mean you belong to me.”


  Being honest would make her emotionally vulnerable to him, yet she was compelled to confess what was in her heart. “I’d be honored.”

  “In that case, please lift your hair out of the way.”

  As she did so, he crossed the room. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, letting her know he appreciated her decision.

  His touch both gentle and firm, he fastened the collar in place, then checked the fit. “Good.” When she released her hair, he nodded his satisfaction. “You’re mine.” Possession punctuated his words. “It couldn’t be more perfect if it had been custom-made for you.”

  Against her neck, the leather slowly warmed.

  “Now finish undressing for me.” This time, he watched, taking in her every movement.

  When she was naked before him, she pressed her tongue to her upper lip. The club she played at had rules against nudity, and for a moment, uncertainty claimed her. She hadn’t been this vulnerable since she was with Robby.

  “You’re even more spectacular than I dared hope.” Jacob traced his thumb along the top of the collar.

  Then, moving behind her, he cupped her breasts and dragged his thumbnails across her nipples.

  Whimpering, she wrapped her hands around one of his wrists for support.

  He leaned into her, his lips near her ear. “Do you like that, Elissa?”

  She loved the way he whispered her name, the syllables laced with sensuality.

  “Hmm?”

  “Yes, I do. Sir.”

  He rewarded her by squeezing her nipples and gently tugging on them, with the right amount of exquisite pressure.

  “And what do you think of floggers?”

  “I love everything about them.”

  “Tell me.”

  She’d never had to explain it before, and she really hadn’t thought it through. “The way it bites. The way the falls can wrap around my body. So many points of contact. It’s like a dance of pleasure and pain, and often both at the same time.”

  “Well said. And a violet wand?”

  How could he expect her to think while he was tormenting her so exquisitely? “I’ve actually never played with one.”

  “Is it on your limits list?”

  “No. I’m actually interested.”

  “Excellent.” He released one nipple and skimmed his hand down her belly to find her heat. “Open your legs. For me. And keep them spread apart. Don’t deny your Dominant.”